


Wonderful Unknown

by fridaysblues (taemin)



Series: Taekai Spies AU [2]
Category: EXO (Band), SHINee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 11:54:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2849951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taemin/pseuds/fridaysblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jongin and Taemin reunite in New York.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wonderful Unknown

When Jongin first arrives in New York, it takes him a few days to get his bearings. It's weird, but after three long years of a regimented prison schedule, he has to fight the voice in the back of his head that keeps telling him he needs to ask permission first. Windows, too—he'd forgotten how nice it was to have a view unobstructed by bars. He's got enough cash to cover a few nights in a hostel and spends his days wandering down the packed streets, his eyes lifted to the skyline jutting above him, fists buried in his pockets.

He's nearly at the finish line, inches away from getting the only thing he wants, and he's never been more fucking terrified in his life. He gets up early and paces the streets around the KTown Allied Interests offices, trying to catch a glimpse of him in the bustle of the morning commuter crowd. But he realizes he doesn't even know what he's looking for; the long-haired boy in the jungle that he knew is long gone, and he can't picture Taemin wearing anything except those sleeveless shirts, ripped jeans and combat boots.

There's also the question of what will happen when he _does_ find him—will Taemin even remember him? What's the right way to approach him? So much time has gone by. _Three years is a long time,_ Taemin had said, and he'd undersold it. To Jongin, these past three years has been an eternity. Jongin makes it all the way to the glass doors of the building that houses KAI's offices before his nerves get the best of him and he ducks down an alley, hands trembling, trying to get ahold of himself.

Just then he spots Taemin pushing past on the sidewalk and instantly, his throat goes dry. Taemin's hair is dark now, cropped short and styled off his forehead. He's wearing a suit—Jongin nearly laughs at the sight, except Taemin wears it so well it looks like he's always been this person, like he's meant to be here. He looks respectable, but the flash in his eyes is still there, and in his purposeful strides: he is still dangerous. Maybe that's just because Jongin knows what's underneath that suit. He's itching to call out his name, but he opens his mouth and his voice is gone. In place, his doubts: maybe Taemin's happier now. He certainly looks it. Maybe he's entirely given up on waiting for Jongin to come back.

 

— 

 

Jongin thinks if he makes an appointment to see Taemin and has to wait, he will chicken out again. His money's running out; his days at the hostel are numbered. So he puts on a new suit and combs his hair and walks right through those double doors like he's got a plan. Speaks to the secretary and gives her his new name — Alex Kim. Says he's an old colleague and he wants to take Taemin out to lunch. She's some young girl named Rachel who reminds him an awful lot of Soojung back when she first started at the NIS. 

"Will he be expecting you?" Rachel asks, head cocked to keep the phone cradled between her shoulder and her ear. She punches a code in. Waits, eyebrows raised.

Jongin smiles. In a manner of speaking. "It's been a while. I wanted to surprise him." She murmurs something into the phone. Jongin's resolve starts to weaken. This is crazy. He's just—some guy, walking in off the street, he could be anyone. This is a securities company, they're going to see right through him. "If he's busy—"

"He should be back soon," she interrupts him, hanging up the phone. "His meeting went long, but it's nearly finished."

Jongdae would disapprove of the way Jongin's throwing caution to the wind. He's got no escape plan, no contingencies, a flimsy cover story that wouldn't stand up to scrutiny. He walked into this situation with no knowledge of what could have been waiting for him inside. But Jongin isn't afraid of blowing a cover—he's afraid of being turned away. He's afraid of having to call Jongdae or Baekhyun and beg to come back because there's nothing for him here.

Rachel ushers Jongin inside Taemin's tiny corner office and brings him some truly weak coffee in a paper cup. "Mr Lee said you should wait in here." He snorts. Hearing Taemin referred to as 'Mr Lee' almost makes him sound halfway respectable. Jongin knows differently.

He sits back and looks around. Taemin keeps his office spartan. No pictures on the walls, no files on the desk. A charger for a laptop, but the machine's nowhere in sight.

As with anything Taemin's ever been involved in, KTown Allied Interests is shrouded in a lot of mystery. Baekhyun had tried to get intelligence on it for Jongin and came up with a bunch of paper corporations, a few tenuous links to a relief organization working on the border between Myanmar and Thailand, right near where Taemin's camp had been. But nothing definitive. Everything Baekhyun has told Jongin about KAI is purely speculative, based more on their knowledge of Taemin than on any direct knowledge of their activities.

Which still doesn't fully explain what Taemin's doing here, knee-deep and rising up the ranks quickly. It's been a long three years for Jongin, but it's only been three years for Taemin, and the name tag on the door says, _"TIM LEE. INTELLIGENCE & INFORMATION SERVICES."_ This, from a guy who never even finished high school. But he's bright, and he spent his formative years making the circuit with his criminal organization—Japan, South Korea, China, Thailand, and then back again—so he's definitely qualified to have a finger on the region's pulse.

Taemin does finally return, fifteen minutes later, eyes glued onto the screen of his phone as he scrolls through his messages. "I'm sorry, but I think you have the wrong—" he starts to apologize, and then stops dead when he finally looks up and sees it's Jongin.

Jongin scrambles to his feet and nearly knocks over the chair in his haste to get up. "I. Uh. Hi," he manages, and then nothing else. 

Taemin stands transfixed, mouth agape. There's a brief moment of panic where Jongin thinks Taemin's going to tell him to get out, but then he's leaning out into the hallway.

"Tell Mr Hong I'm in another meeting," he says, and then slams the door closed. Jongin recognizes the name: Wilson Hong, philanthropist, founder, and shadowy leader of KAI (although Jongin knows, he is _absolutely positive_ that Taemin was the one to propose the name, as a nod to his old cover ID). Jongin wants to ask how much Hong knows, if Hong has any idea who Taemin really is, but he's got a million other questions before that, starting with _is it okay that I came here?_

Jongin's pulse is hammering in his veins at the way Taemin's grinning at him. That's all the answer Jongin really needs. He's on Taemin in two strides, arms locking around his neck. They stumble awkwardly for a moment while Taemin tries to adjust his balance to account for Jongin's weight, and then they stand there, Taemin's face buried in the curve of his neck, just breathing him in. Jongin cards his fingers through Taemin's hair and just holds him. He still can't say anything. Not that it matters. He doesn't need to.

Finally, Taemin breaks the silence. "Why didn't you call me?" he demands, his voice muffled by the collar of Jongin's jacket. "I didn't know you were getting out this month. I would've come to get you."

Jongin squeezes Taemin tighter. He's been dreaming of this moment—or a variation on it, anyway—for three long years now. The tension in his chest loosens. "I didn't know for sure when it was going to be."

"How did you find me?"

"Baekhyun's been keeping tabs on you. You made it pretty easy."

"Of course I did. You said go to New York. Do you know how many people live here? It would've taken you years if you went door-to-door." Taemin steps back to take in Jongin's appearance and wrinkles his nose. "You're too skinny. Are you okay? Are you hurt? How was it?" He reaches out to touch Jongin's face and stops millimeters away, unsure of whether or not he has permission to touch him like this. Jongin makes the decision for him and completes the motion, holding Taemin's hand against his cheek.

 _Hard_ , Jongin thinks. He'd been given a cell of his own—but that didn't mean there wasn't a target on his back. He was a minor celebrity in his cell block. A former spy accused of treason had a reason to look over both of his shoulders. They kept him in solitary for twenty hours out of the day, which helped him avoid most of the physical abuse, but he was still afraid every time he was escorted to the mess hall to eat, every time he had to work his job down in the prison kitchen. "I caught up on my reading," he teases, deciding that Taemin doesn't need the whole story just yet.

"Shit," Taemin whispers, and his eyes almost look damp before he scrubs at his face with his sleeve. "I'm really glad you're here. I thought you'd forget."

 

— 

 

Taemin disappears again after that and Jongin hears him talking to Rachel in a low voice, much too quiet to hear anything even though he strains his ears trying. Jongin waits an agonizingly long time—for what feels like hours, even though it's probably only about ten minutes—and then Taemin's in the doorway, smiling at him.

"You coming?"

He points at Jongin and then back at Rachel. "Anytime Mr Kim calls, it's a priority. You understand? Unless the building's on fire."

Rachel eyes them warily, obviously unsure of what to make of this underfed, haggard guy standing in the reception area, and why he's just so important to Taemin. Still, she keeps the polite smile pasted on her face. "Yes, sir," she says.

"I'm taking him home now," he says. "Cancel everything else on my calendar for the day — tell them I came down with something."

She looks up at him in the middle of dialing a number. Realization's dawning on her face. She almost manages to hide her smirk, but not quite. "Yes, sir," she says again. "Have a nice afternoon."

"I'll see you in the morning," Taemin says, beaming sunnily at her, and leads Jongin out the door, their index fingers neatly hooked together.

 

— 

 

Taemin brings Jongin back to his—their—apartment. It looks bizarrely domestic. Jongin doesn't know what he'd been expecting, but he remembers Taemin's last accommodations—an abandoned warehouse—and had assumed… well. He hadn't expected furniture. Books. Material possessions. An entire set of dishes that match. 

He keeps calling it "our place" which takes Jongin by surprise until he sees that half of the drawers are empty and have been empty this whole time, just waiting for him to get here. There's even a toothbrush for him in the medicine cabinet, still wrapped and ready for use. Taemin didn't forget, not even for a second. He's been living with the reminder that there has been something missing from his life for these past three years. Jongin's throat aches with unbidden tears, but the feeling passes as quickly as it comes when he turns around and catches Taemin watching him, eyes alight with excitement.

Taemin flits around Jongin as he makes his rounds of the apartment. He can't stop touching him, can't keep his hands off him, like he's positive Jongin will disappear if he lets go for a single second. When Jongin's curiosity is finally satisfied, he lets Taemin draw him into bed even though it's still daylight. It occurs to Jongin that this is their first time sharing an honest-to-god bed. Before this it had been a mattress on the warehouse floor; before that, a tent in the jungle. In the history of their relationship, there has never been coordinated sheets, no comforter or pillow, no bed frame or headboard.

Jongin thrusts his arms above his head in a deep stretch and takes the opportunity to spread out across the duvet, limbs unfurling. This is a far cry from his cramped bunk in his tiny, windowless cell. Taemin lies at the edge of the bed and watches him, wariness lurking at the corners of his eyes like he thinks he's gone too far and Jongin's looking for space. Jongin crawls across the mattress and tentatively drops a kiss at the side of Taemin's mouth. Taemin strokes his hand down the side of Jongin's face and lets it come to rest at the nape of his neck, holding him close.

"You hungry?" Taemin asks. "You really do look like shit." 

Jongin shakes his head. Truth be told, he is hungry, but not enough to get up and do something about it. He can't stop smiling, doesn't want to move away from this. Food can wait. Everything can wait.

Taemin talks and talks, staring into Jongin's face long past the point when his eyelids start to get heavy and droop. Finally, he relents and closes his eyes, but keeps going, rambling on about how he'd been so lost when he first arrived in the city. He tells Jongin about his difficulty getting around his first few weeks, how cold it gets in the winter. He mentions something about buying Jongin a scarf.

Jongin curls into Taemin's side and lets him go on until his voice starts to fray. When he sounds especially hoarse, Jongin leans up, turns Taemin's chin towards him with two fingers and kisses him quiet. Taemin's mouth slackens into it, his hand loosely fisted in Jongin's hair. They kiss so leisurely that Jongin dozes off in the ebbs, a little more deeply each time, until finally he doesn't try to resurface.

They don't even fuck that night. They fall asleep holding each other on top of the covers, still fully-dressed. Jongin wakes up in the grey half-light of dawn with a stiff neck to the sound of Taemin's alarm. Jongin rolls into the warm dip at Taemin's side of the bed and watches blearily through his drying contacts as Taemin sleepwalks to the bathroom for a shower. 

"You'll be here when I get back," Taemin says after he's dressed and standing over the bed, fiddling with his cuffs.

It's not a question, but Jongin nods anyway and settles back against the pillows.

"Good," Taemin says. "I've got a couple things I need to get done today, but I'll be back. You can—sleep, I guess, or there's the TV." He watches Jongin for another few seconds, a wry smile quirking at the corners of his mouth. Then, he licks his lips and sticks his thumb through the knot of his tie with a decisive yank. "Fuck it," he says, pulling it free and discarding it on the floor. "They can start without me."

He drops his entire body weight on Jongin and kisses him aggressively, fingers yanking so hard at Jongin's hair that Jongin worries it will come out in Taemin's hands. He feels the pain blossoming in his ribs and knows it's going to bruise, but the ache dulls as Taemin's teeth scrape down his neck. Every nerve in Jongin's body refocuses on the fact that he hasn't been touched in years, not like this, and he has wanted this—wanted Taemin—so badly. He doesn't even know what to do with himself now that he's getting it. He whimpers quietly and nips at Taemin's earlobe in retaliation.

Taemin goes for the button of Jongin's trousers. Jongin lifts his hips up to help remove them, then untucks Taemin's shirt. Taemin shrugs out of it and tosses it aside. His skin's still damp from the shower and his hair smells sweet, like apples. Jongin feels like he could come untouched just like this, from feeling the weight of Taemin's body balanced on his chest, from the stroke of Taemin's hand down his hip or from the familiar taste of Taemin's skin.

Taemin starts. "Can I—"

"Yes, fuck," Jongin says, bowing his forehead onto Taemin's shoulder to watch as Taemin takes both of their erections into his palm and tugs firmly. "Don't—you have to call someone," Jongin pants. "To let them know you're going to be late?"

Taemin pushes Jongin back against the bedspread and straddles his lap. "Later," he says, his eyes dark, his smile wicked and gleaming. "Stop talking."

 

—

 

Deep into the morning, Taemin wraps them both up in a sheet. Jongin is sweaty and sticky, the drying semen on his stomach and legs starting to pull and itch uncomfortably as it dries. Taemin pushes Jongin's hair off his face and looks up at him, his face sunny and bright, grin stretching wide. He looks so soft, so well-rested. Jongin turns his face into Taemin's hand and kisses the arching crease etched in his palm. Taemin smells like the sweet tobacco he'd smoked the night before, the same way he'd smelled back in the jungle, then again in Seoul. Jongin hadn't realized you could get homesick for scents, especially ones you didn't even realize you remembered.

Taemin thumbs at Jongin's eyebrows, smoothing the stray hairs into submission. "So," he says. He draws a long breath, and his expression turns serious. "Staying in town long?"

Jongin laughs and kisses him—then they're wrestling for control of round two, trying to make up for all those years lost.

**Author's Note:**

> Some interim reunion fluff before the sequel. Merry Christmas!


End file.
